


Bound to Be a Better Ride

by Sass_Master



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Facials, Hand Jobs, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-04-23 23:39:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sass_Master/pseuds/Sass_Master
Summary: “She seemed quite… taken with you.”“Who?” Dean replies without thinking. He’s not sure why he’s playing dumb – it’s pretty fucking obvious that she’s into him. Obvious to Cas too, apparently. “Shannon?”Cas doesn’t even have a response to that, just a slight narrowing of his eyes at the sound of her name, faint frown deepening.That’sinteresting. So interesting, in fact, that Dean can’t help but prod at it a little and see where that gets him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very belated birthday fic for Kat <3

After decades of experience, Dean knows damn well when he’s being flirted with.

Though that isn’t to say he’s always completely prepared for it.

He’s in Buffalo with Cas, investigating a case that’s been pretty mundane so far – as mundane as things can be in their line of work, at least. They’ve been interviewing all day, extracting relevant information where they can before following up on any potential leads they uncover.

When one such lead brings them to the hotel the victim was staying in before he disappeared, Dean’s anticipating a standard, and likely brief, line of questioning that probably won’t pan out into anything useful. What Dean isn’t expecting is the woman at the front desk – Shannon, according to her nametag – taking an immediate and obvious interest in him.

“Yes, he was here,” she confirms, clicking around on the computer with practiced efficiency. “Checked in on Wednesday the 8th,” she adds as she glances back at him, all but batting her eyelashes, tucking a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear.

“Okay,” Dean says after a moment of hesitation, oddly thrown off balance, awkward in a way he’s not used to feeling when he’s caught the eye of an attractive woman. “Great.”

As Dean asks a few more questions, he can’t help but almost admire how unsubtle she’s being. Maybe there’s something about him that invites that, even when he doesn’t realize it, as naturally flirtatious as he can be. It’s hard to break some of those habits even if he’s not exactly, uh… _available_ the way he used to be.

But she’s definitely giving off strong vibes, and Dean wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t know how to recognize that. Okay, maybe it took him a while to catch on that Cas, y’know, _liked him_ liked him, but he did figure it out. Eventually.

Speaking of Cas, Dean’s growing painfully aware of Cas at his elbow the longer this goes on, the more she chats Dean up with a playful lilt in her voice that seems out of place for someone discussing check-in records.

“Anything else I can do for you, detective?” She leans in further, and Dean can’t deny that she looks a hell of a lot like someone he might’ve pursued in the past – the type that usually catches his attention because instead of a blush or a nervous stammer, she meets his come-ons with the hint of a sharp edge in her smile, a glint in her eye. A woman who knows what she wants and is willing to go get it. Yeah, he woulda been all over that when he was, you know. Single.

That's still weird to think about, not being single. A part of him always thought commitment would freak him out, too much of a change of pace for him to handle. But the warm feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at Cas is nothing compared to whatever spark of attraction this girl might elicit. It’s disgustingly sappy, but it’s true, and Dean’s put any embarrassment about that behind him, because he’s learned that there are better things for him on the horizon if he can shake off his hang ups.

“Uh,” he fumbles, starts and stops again, trying to focus on the case. “Cameras? You got cameras here?”

She hums an affirmative that Dean _swears_ has a suggestive tone to it, and if she’s put off by how weird he’s being, she doesn’t show it. Or maybe she thinks he’s just flustered over her and she’s getting a kick out of the way she’s affecting him – wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. He’d always had a tendency to go home with the ones who have no use for his pick-up lines but are still up for spending a night with him just for the opportunity to take him down a peg. The ones who see his cocky act like some kind of challenge.

“Think we could get a look at the tapes?” He aims for friendly, because he does still want information from her, but he’s leery of encouraging her.

“Let me talk to the guys in security and see what I can do. I won’t be long,” she says, walking off with a smile and a sway.

In another lifetime, before he and Cas were a _thing_ , Dean never used to question this kind of boldness. But now he’s realizing how ballsy it is for her to just assume that he’s open to something, not considering that he’s seeing someone—or that the person he’s seeing is _literally standing right next to him_ , not that she could’ve guessed. Of course, a gorgeous girl like her probably isn’t used to her advances being unwanted.

But maybe Dean’s just being paranoid about how forward she seems. Maybe Cas didn’t even notice.

“So,” Cas says, breaking the unusually tense silence. “She seemed quite… taken with you.”

Okay, so, maybe he _did_ notice.

“Who?” Dean replies without thinking. He’s not sure why he’s playing dumb – it’s pretty fucking obvious that she’s into him. Obvious to Cas too, apparently. “Shannon?”

Cas doesn’t even have a response to that, just a slight narrowing of his eyes at the sound of her name, faint frown deepening.

 _That’s_ interesting. So interesting, in fact, that Dean can’t help but prod at it a little and see where that gets him. “Well hey, it’s not the first time, am I right?” he asks with a pasted-on grin, nudging Cas with his elbow.

“Yes, I’m aware.” Yeah, there’s a strain in Cas’s voice, a certain storminess gathering behind his eyes that Dean is downright _intrigued_ by.

He watches Cas appraisingly for a moment, wanting to dissect whatever’s on his mind, but he knows this isn’t the time or place. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter how _taken with me_ she is. It’s not like she’s gonna get a piece of this,” he teases, gesturing to himself, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

Cas, on the other hand, doesn’t look like he’s teasing. “No,” he agrees with barely concealed disdain. “She isn’t.”

Dean’s not sure if he misheard the slight emphasis on _she_ , there, but he’s instantly lost in the thought that someone else, someone standing right next to him, might be angling for a piece of him later. He’s entranced by the intensity on Cas’s face, not certain what exactly he’s seeing but almost squirming with the possibilities in an undeniably pleasant way, a far cry from how fidgety he was before, being blatantly flirted with by someone he just met.

“Well,” Shannon says as she returns to the desk, startling Dean out of his daze. “The guys said the cops were already here, and they didn’t find anything that seemed important. So you might want to follow up with them.” She smiles at Dean again. “But if you still wanted to come back and take a look, I’m sure it’d be fine,” she adds, an almost hopeful note in her words.

Normally, Dean _would_ insist on checking out the footage himself, not trusting the local police to know what the hell they’re supposed to be looking for, but at this point, he’s ready to declare this already flimsy lead a resounding failure and be on their merry way. “No, I think we’re good.”

“Sorry,” she says with a tiny pout, not too over the top but clearly put on for effect. “I really wanted to help you out.”

“You’ve helped already,” Dean reassures her instinctively, regretting it when that sharpness comes back to her eyes.

“Is there maybe a number I could reach you at if I think of anything?” she asks, her real question unmistakable.

Dean vaguely wonders if wearing a ring or something would keep this kinda stuff to a minimum, and isn’t _that_ a loaded train of thought he can’t really indulge right now.

“That won’t be necessary,” Cas cuts in before Dean can figure out a reply.

“Okay,” she says, eyes flicking briefly to Cas almost as if she’d forgotten he was there. That says a lot about how bad she’s got it for Dean, considering he’s usually the one feeling invisible while Cas gets all the ladies’ attention. “Well, good luck,” she adds, letting her hand catch Dean’s forearm where it’s resting on the counter and giving it a gentle squeeze. “And hey—” She lowers her voice as if she’s actually being discreet, but she has no idea exactly how much discretion she should be showing right now, exactly who Cas is to Dean. “If you’re still around later, my shift’s over at seven.”

“I’ll, uh—” Dean attempts, genuinely unsure how to respond to such a blatant invitation, especially with Cas right next to him. He glances in Cas’s direction, and the look in his eyes makes Dean swallow hard, stomach flipping, almost entirely forgetting what he was going to say. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cas chimes in with a _Thank you_ that’s too firm to really be considered polite, hand settling heavily on Dean’s shoulder, steering him away from the counter as if Dean isn’t just as anxious to get out of here as Cas is. Of course, it’s hard for Dean to say no to a little manhandling.

Dean could just be imagining the blatant statement that Cas is trying to make by touching Dean like this, and once upon a time, that might’ve sent a jolt of fear through him, panic over such a public display. But now the thought of it just stirs up heat in his stomach, because there’s something kinda thrilling about Cas needing to put his hands on Dean at this particular moment, when he’s normally so careful about keeping things professional.

Yep, _definitely interesting._

When they’ve gotten back in the car, Dean turns to Cas expectantly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cas says, though the tension in his jaw suggests otherwise.

“All right.” Dean licks his lips, gratified when the motion attracts Cas’s attention, like it always does. “So, what do you think then? Should we head to the sheriff’s station?”

“No,” Cas says, fingers suddenly resting on Dean’s knee and trailing up his thigh, inching almost high enough to be indecent. “I think we should go back to our room first.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, failing not to sound too eager, helplessly drawn in by that same stormy look in Cas’s eyes. “Good idea.”

For the moment, Dean’s too overwhelmed by an unexpected wave of arousal – and what that leads to once they’re behind closed doors – to put together a coherent theory about what’s really gotten under Cas’s skin. But he concludes later, bite marks on his collarbones and a possessive arm around his waist, that Cas _might_ have a bit of a jealous streak.


	2. Chapter 2

Historically, Castiel has often been oblivious to romantic interest directed at him. Or, at the very least, unmoved by it – he doesn’t mean to be arrogant, but that kind of thing happens enough that he’s learned to tune it out. He’s excruciatingly aware, however, when that kind of attention is directed at Dean.

Even before the two of them were together, Castiel had never exactly _enjoyed_ people lusting after Dean, but he never let it get to him. Even once he knew the depth of his feelings for Dean, those kinds of encounters didn’t faze him because he knew they likely meant nothing. But now that they _are_ together, he finds himself struggling to maintain that cool façade.

Castiel hadn’t been prepared for that immediate, rapid escalation of – there’s no other way to say it – his _jealousy._ If anything, he would have expected it to abate with his increased confidence that any lingering stares or suggestive conversation Dean might run into are meaningless, because he’s got Castiel.

Unfortunately, that’s just the way emotions are – horribly unpredictable, impossible to control. Castiel had been much better at handling them before Dean came along.

Castiel isn’t particularly proud of his reaction the other day at the hotel. He’d always considered himself above such things, capable of more civilized ways of working through an uncomfortable situation. That kind of behavior is unseemly, foolish, and it ultimately accomplishes nothing, but no matter how many times he tries to convince himself, tries to talk himself down rationally, it never works.

He’s starting to have a hard time controlling himself.

It’s especially difficult when it’s someone Castiel knows Dean would probably have pursued, once upon a time. He’d figured out Dean’s _type_ a long time ago, and that woman at the check-in desk undoubtedly fit the description. Then again, so does Castiel.

It takes embarrassingly little to set him off, not helped by the fact that Dean is flirtatious by nature, always with a curious spark in his eye, some playful, teasing remark at the ready. Like when they’re crowded into a booth at some barbecue restaurant, and Dean reflexively winks at the waitress when she comes to collect their plates and ask if they enjoyed their food. Cas’s fingers tighten on his beer bottle in a firm grip, like he wants to do on the back of Dean’s neck, just to remind him and everyone else in the room what he has sitting beside him. He knows Dean means nothing by it – sly, fleeting glances don’t hold a candle to the way Dean looks at _Castiel –_ but it still makes him want to move closer, be more obvious about the fact that they’re together.

Dean’s wary about those kinds of displays in public, though; Castiel understands and respects that. No matter how strong the urge is to let any interested parties know that displaying said interest is futile, that pursuing Dean is a misguided notion they’d be better off forgetting.

He has no claim to Dean. He knows that, and he knows Dean would never be unfaithful. It’s not really about that at all. He trusts Dean, and even though a committed relationship might be new for him, Castiel has never questioned his loyalty or doubted his feelings. But it doesn’t seem to matter if he knows that Dean’s not receptive; It still unnerves Castiel to see people making advances, and the thought of anyone else _touching_ Dean gets him so wound up that if he’s not careful, he may shatter a few light bulbs with the sheer, unfettered vexation coursing through him.

But he’s easily mollified when Dean winks at him instead, a deliberate display as his hand brushes Castiel’s thigh beneath the table. He leans in close, asking _Wanna get out of here?_ in a promising murmur that reminds Castiel exactly who Dean’s going home with tonight.

Castiel can’t help but find that eminently gratifying – it’s a tremendous boost to his ego that Dean could have anyone he wants, is _used to_ having anyone he wants, and he passes them up happily for Castiel.

“Yes,” Castiel replies, looking at the waitress from across the room. “Let’s go.” If he can’t make things between him and Dean clear while they’re in public, he’s determined to make it count once they’re alone.

Every emotion, every instinct that’s been hovering just beneath the surface can finally be unleashed the minute they get back to the motel room. Just like last time. It isn’t that he’s especially forceful or overbearing tonight, not exactly. He doesn’t understand that particular tactic, taking out one’s jealousy on the object of desire. It’s hardly Dean’s fault he’s so attractive. He’s simply… more focused, more thoroughly intent on making things good for Dean.

He gets Dean off once, then again as soon as he can manage, then a third time simply because he can – he’s not above using his grace to help things along. He’s feeling much better by the end of it, and his concern that he went overboard is quickly erased by the breathless _goddamn, Cas,_ he gets from Dean, evidence of how thoroughly Castiel has satisfied him. He’s definitely thinking about Castiel, not some waitress who could never take care of Dean the way Castiel can, and will never get to try.

Castiel eyes Dean indulgently, admiring his handiwork; Dean’s sweaty and filthy, covered in marks from Castiel’s mouth and fingertips. It’s petty, perhaps, but Castiel made a point of leaving a visible love bite on Dean’s neck, just high enough to peek out from under his collar, to show anyone who looks at him that he’s already taken care of. Castiel’s not particularly proud of that either, or the surge of possessiveness that overwhelms him when he looks at it and traces it with his finger, but he can’t summon the will to be too guilty about it either.

For a moment he worries that Dean will be annoyed by his… display, that later he’ll see the unsubtle evidence Castiel has left on his throat and be put off by Castiel’s behavior. But he only blushes and makes a teasing remark, obviously pleased – even a little smug? – as he inspects it in the mirror, touches it reverently, and doesn’t complain.

*   *   *

Dean’s never been great at leaving well enough alone, and this is clearly not an exception.

Now that he knows what to look for, he’s got plenty of evidence to establish a pattern, a very definitive cause and effect: Dean gets hit on, then Cas goes to fucking town on him.

He does, very briefly, wonder if he should be bothered by this instead of embarrassingly turned on. Dean’s known a few possessive assholes in his time, and that kind of behavior had always reeked of insecurity, as far as he saw it. But it’s different with Cas. It’s hardly coming from a _lack_ of self-esteem, more that he’s radiating a sense of absolute confidence and certainty – that Dean is his, that he can give Dean everything he needs, and anyone else would be an idiot to even think they could remotely measure up. On another person, that kind of attitude would make Dean think it’s all an act, a display that was fueled by overcompensation, but he knows that when it comes to Cas, sincerity is at the heart of almost everything he does.

And it’s not like Dean doesn’t get where Cas is coming from. Dean knows some random chick isn’t going to turn Cas’s head, but he’s not exactly thrilled when someone makes a pass at Cas right in front of him.

Really, Cas just isn’t that guy. Whatever envy he might be experiencing isn’t an ugly thing he uses to hurt Dean or control him or treat him like an object. He’s apparently just motivated to… stake his claim.

Dean could have some fun with that.

It’s surprisingly easy. He doesn’t _actively_ hit on anyone in front of Cas – that kind of thing used to be second nature for him, but it just feels wrong now – he just tries to seem… approachable. Dean knows how to ride that line, how to be open to flirtation but not appear overtly interested. It’s not an elegant method, but it works like a charm. Cas gets that look in his eye and Dean knows he’s got an enjoyable evening ahead of him.

Things get a little more complicated one day when they’re putting groceries away, and Dean gets a call from Scott, a guy he’d teamed up with for a hunt a few years back.

The second Dean hears his voice, he remembers the way they’d _celebrated_ a job well done before parting ways, and something must show on his face, because Cas watches him suspiciously as Dean chats on the phone, catching up with some casual small talk.

Turns out Scott’s on a case and in need of a little assistance. Dean’s first instinct is to decline, refer him to one of his contacts that’s closer to his area, but the look in Cas’s eyes has him changing his mind.

Dean obviously hadn’t planned to end up working with a former hookup, but he can’t pass up this perfect opportunity now that it’s fallen into his lap. He tells Scott he’ll see him soon and hangs up.

Cas is quiet for a second, maybe allowing Dean the chance to explain himself. When Dean doesn’t, Cas’s frown deepens. “Who was that?”

“Hunting buddy of mine,” Dean explains, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Scott. I think I’ve mentioned him to you before?” Dean knows damn well that he didn’t.

“I don’t recall,” Cas replies, expression calculating, letting a few beats of silence pass. “He’s just… a _buddy_?” he asks, almost too flatly to even be a question.

Dean doesn’t know if he’s being obvious about his past with Scott, somehow, or if Cas is just following a hunch with eerie precision, but Dean can’t lie to him now that they’re on this path. He clears his throat. “Well, uh…”

“Well?”

Just the way Cas is raising an eyebrow at him has Dean looking forward to seeing out this plays out. “We did have, y’know…” He hesitates, throat suddenly dry. “A thing.”

“A thing,” Cas repeats, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Just once,” Dean rushes to clarify, heart pounding in his uncertainty. This kind of conversation is uncharted territory for them. “Haven’t heard from him since.”

“Until now.” Cas fills in for him. He isn’t angry, Dean knows that much, but he’s clearly not thrilled, probably still processing this turn of events.

“This wasn’t a… _social call,_ ” Dean reassures him. “He hit a dead end on a case and wanted to know if we could help.”

“We?” Cas repeats, deadpan, justified skepticism in his voice.

“Well,” Dean hesitates, but he can’t deny it. “I guess he really just asked for me.” Cas only sighs, expression unreadable, and Dean’s quick to cut in again. “But you’re gonna come too, right?” Dean can tell that Cas wouldn’t be too happy about him going alone, but he’s way too respectful to insist on tagging along.

“If you want,” Cas says after a short pause, trying to appear nonchalant. It might be convincing if he didn’t know Cas so well.

Dean pastes on a sly grin and sidles closer to Cas. “’Course I _want_ ,” he murmurs, running a hand along Cas’s arm. “Might be nice to have some time together away from Sam, know what I mean?”

“I suppose,” Cas replies. Whatever’s going on in his head is still a mystery, but he does look at least slightly appeased at the thought of being alone with Dean in a motel room.

“Great,” Dean says, leaning in for a quick kiss that finally puts a trace of a smile on Cas’s face. “Meet you at the car in twenty.”

Dean scurries off to pack, sweating as he wonders what he’s gotten himself into – gotten them both into – by agreeing to this. He ponders the possibilities with growing anticipation, not knowing where his nervousness ends and his excitement begins, almost lightheaded with the one thing he _is_ certain about: no matter the outcome, this is going to be one hell of an interesting trip.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon! Thanks for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

Dean figures that, given how things were the last time they saw each other, Scott might have expected the possibility of Sam playing third wheel. He obviously wasn’t expecting Cas.

To say the introductions are awkward is putting it kindly, and even after they move past that and start the case in earnest, Cas is strangely quiet. Dean might consider it a good sign, that Cas is being his usual pensive self, but he suspects that Cas is taking that whole  _ if you can’t say anything nice _ thing to heart right now.

Cas might be acting as the strong, silent type all day, but Dean knows him well enough to realize that beneath that stony façade, Cas is feeling a bit… moody. It reminds him of their time together in purgatory, the tangible undercurrent of impatience and irritation, the clipped sentences, the eye rolls. Dean wouldn’t have called Cas’s behavior jealousy back then, but now he’s got plenty of evidence that indicates it absolutely was. There wasn’t even anything going on between him and Benny and it was bad enough—Dean can’t even imagine how much worse things are going to be considering his  _ history _ with Scott.

He probably shouldn’t be excited about that.

Dean’s already convinced, just from the way Cas is brooding, jaw tensing every time Scott so much as glances in Dean’s direction, that when Cas finally gets him alone, it’s gonna be  _ good. _ But Dean is nothing if not ambitious, and he’s still itching to see what else might happen if he lets this situation run its natural course. Maybe even providing a little nudge to help it along.

When they’re examining the victims at the morgue, Cas remains stoic, observant, like he does so well when he wants to, only piping up to shoot down Scott’s theory about what caused the bite marks. He  _ is _ right, of course. Dean would’ve said the same thing if Cas hadn’t beat him to it. He would’ve tried to be more diplomatic about it though, a few notches gentler than Cas’s swift, ruthless takedown.

“Okay,” Scott says slowly, maybe not mad about the vehemence of Cas’s rebuttal, per se, but obviously thrown off by it. He glances at Dean, as if looking for support, but Dean keeps his face carefully neutral, pretends to be looking at something on his phone, so Scott turns back to Cas. “I guess you’ve got a better idea then?”

“Yes,” Cas replies, confident, absolute. “I do.”

Dean has to admit that  _ maybe _ Cas is being kind of a dick right now. But he tends to hang back when hunting with Sam and Dean, deferring to their years of practical experience, so it’s nice to see him making a point to assert his knowledge for a change. And weirdly hot, actually, not least of all because, regardless of his legitimate disdain for Scott, Cas is also clearly trying to show off for Dean. Dean probably shouldn’t be excited about that either, but something about that kind of attention makes him all tingly inside.

When they leave the sheriff’s station, Cas takes the lead back to the car with an impatient, efficient stride. Dean tries not to check him out  _ too _ obviously, but with a view like that, it’s a losing battle.

“Hey.”

Dean’s almost startled to see Scott hanging back next to him, hand on Dean’s arm to get his attention.

Scott inclines his head toward Cas, now on the other side of the parking lot. “What’s his problem?” he asks with a hint of a laugh, like he’s expecting Dean to be in on the joke.

Dean tamps down the urge to be defensive about that, maintaining a blank expression again. “What do you mean?”

“Uh—” Scott falters, another faint laugh fading into nothing. “Never mind.” He falls silent for a moment, eyes lingering on Dean’s face, hand still on his arm. “It’s really great seeing you again.”

Dean’s the one who falters this time, no idea how to respond to that. For a split second, he’s reminded why he took Scott up on his  _ offer _ the first time around, even if he wasn’t inclined for a repeat performance. He also realizes, getting another good look at Scott’s piercing eyes and stubbled jaw, that, yeah, he has a ‘type’ for sure.

“Been a while,” Dean hedges with an awkward smile, not wanting to make the wrong impression by agreeing with Scott’s sentiment. He’s a decent guy, sure, but Dean knows Scott’s feelings about this reunion are probably different than Dean’s. When something in Scott’s expression darkens, Dean knows this conversation is about to get less subtle, and he swiftly looks away, gaze landing on Cas. “We should catch up,” he suggests, wanting to get back to the car already.

“Yeah, we should,” Scott says with a hint of innuendo, obviously misunderstanding what Dean was saying.

Dean’s about to correct him, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Cas watching him from afar, the weight of his intense gaze heating him up inside in a way that Scott’s advances definitely fail to do. He decides to leave things ambiguous.

He almost –  _ almost –  _ feels guilty about that, but that night Cas very thoroughly reminds him why he’s playing this game, and he decides he’s too curious to see how this pans out to set the record straight just yet.

*   *   *

Castiel’s tried to be polite.

Well, no, maybe he hasn’t. But this whole situation is…  _ difficult, _ to say the least. As usual, it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself that he’s above these petty emotions, how desperately he appeals to the reasonable side of himself that usually governs his actions.

He simply can’t talk himself out of his undesirable feelings on this one, and he can’t get away from the source of them either. For days on end he’s been forced to be in the presence of someone who is very clearly interested in Dean, and he can’t just pull Dean aside and have his way with him or wait the interaction out until it inevitably passes, the way he’s grown accustomed to doing.

He knew what he was walking into by coming along on this trip, but he wasn’t prepared for how much worse his jealous tendencies would be. It’s one thing when it’s some random employee with a nametag trying to catch Dean’s eye. They might like what they see when they look at him, be charmed by his smile and his quick wit – because how could anyone not be? – but they don’t really know him.

This man does. He knows Dean.  _ Has _ known him, in the most suggestive sense of the word. And that’s the most unbearable part, of course. It’s not just Scott’s obvious interest in Dean but the fact that he’s has already acted on that interest before. Castiel tries not to think about it too much, that Scott’s been intimate with Dean, but he is  _ constantly reminded _ by how he looks at Dean, the way he stands close to him, finds any excuse to talk to him without Castiel involved.

Castiel could put a stop to it, but he suppresses the urge, not wanting to be overbearing or do something to upset Dean. He’d hate to let his irrational feelings deprive Dean of what could very well just be a harmless, friendly interaction. Unfortunately, even that sort of thing isn’t easy for Castiel to watch. Seeing this man make Dean  _ laugh _ brings up an inescapable dissonance that Castiel doesn’t know how to parse. It’s a confusing mess of contradictions, because Dean laughing and smiling is among his favorite sights on earth, never failing to put his heart in his throat because of how fiercely he covets the opportunity to see Dean so happy – but in this case, remembering the cause of Dean’s mirth sends Castiel’s heart sinking back into his stomach, and he has to focus on something else until he settles down again.

Dean’s allowed to have friends, of course. But this isn’t just a  _ friend, _ is it. It’s a frustrating cycle that Castiel’s been trapped in since they started this case, needing an outlet for his internal distress but having few opportunities to express those feelings appropriately.

So perhaps he jumps too readily at the chance to criticize Scott or show him up, often finding himself butting in before he fully registers what he’s doing. As much as Castiel values planning and forethought, sometimes his impulsive urges take over, and this, it seems, is no exception.

Though is it his fault, Castiel thinks disdainfully, if this man presents him with such ample opportunity?

When they’re breaking into a warehouse in search of a potential monster nest and Scott’s struggling to wrench open a rusted door, how can Castiel not intervene?

He indulges in an unapologetic eyeroll because he knows Scott’s back is turned as he pulls ineffectively at the door handle. “Move,” Castiel says, sounding almost bored as he strides forward with purpose. Surprisingly, despite his misgivings about Castiel, Scott immediately complies and steps aside. Something about that makes Castiel feel powerful in a way that has nothing to do with the superior physical abilities he’s about to display.

Castiel could open it with no visible effort, but in a situation like this, when he knows Dean is watching, he makes a point to let his muscles flex as he wrenches the door open, nearly pulling it off its hinges. He almost feels bad, for a moment, when he sees the unimpressed look on Scott’s face. Castiel couldn’t care less what  _ he  _ thinks, but he starts to worry that Dean might be annoyed or embarrassed by the way he’s acting. But when he glances at Dean, all Castiel finds is that glazed look in his eyes that he always gets when Castiel shows off his strength, something secret and exhilarated in his expression when his gaze meets Castiel’s. After that, Castiel’s hardly compelled to rein in his behavior.

Later, once they’ve reconvened at the motel and are discussing their next move to corner the creatures, Scott hardly gets a full sentence into his plan before Castiel feels the need to weigh in. “That won’t work,” he interjects, exasperated. “Did you forget how much faster than you they are? You wouldn’t make it ten feet before they caught up to you.”

Scott blinks at him, eyebrows raised, but before he can reply, Dean cuts in. “Hey, y’know what guys? Why don’t we sleep on this one?”

For a moment it looks like Scott might argue, but he seems to think better of it. “Sure. See you tomorrow then,” he says, casting a final look at Castiel before leaving their room to go back to his own.

Castiel lets out a slow breath, relieved they they’ve parted ways for the evening, trying not to be smug about how he can finally be alone with Dean.

“Dude.” Dean turns to him as soon as the door is closed, a strained laugh in his voice. “Not pulling any punches today are you?”

Castiel expects Dean to chastise him, to tell him to  _ be nice _ – it wouldn’t be the first time – but instead he just watches Castiel with an almost expectant look, the faint traces of a smirk on his face.

Castiel watches him too, for a few seconds, before breaking the silence. “He’s still attracted to you,” he says, eyes narrowing at the thought.

Dean clears his throat, crossing the room to sit on the bed. “That my fault?”

Castiel doesn’t respond to that, but they both know he doesn’t blame Dean for other people being interested. It’s not like Castiel doesn’t understand where they’re coming from. “Does he know about us?” he asks instead – not accusatory, just curious.

“I dunno,” Dean stalls, a fascinating pink tinging his cheeks as Castiel walks closer. “It didn’t come up.” He stretches out on the bed and reaches for Castiel when he wanders close enough, pulling him in by the tie and urging Castiel on top of him. “Figured, ya know…” he trails off, the barest tremor in his voice, the obvious way his eyes dart to Castiel’s mouth betraying his excitement. “Keep things professional.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Castiel wonders aloud, tracing the line of Dean’s jaw with the tip of his finger. “Keeping things professional?”

“With him,” Dean quickly clarifies. “But you—” He breaks off with a sigh as Castiel tips his chin up, leaning in to press his mouth to Dean’s pulse point. “You can be as unprofessional with me as you want.”

That’s an invitation Castiel can’t refuse.

Sometimes he’s in a rush to have Dean this way, when he’s been stewing with jealousy for far too long, especially when he knows that Dean is just as eager for it. But tonight he wants to take his time because he  _ can – _ he’s allowed to do that with Dean. Unlike so many before him, he doesn’t have to limit this to one fleeting encounter and an indefinite period of pining afterward.

Dean’s already a mess by the time Castiel pushes him down and spreads him open, uses his tongue until he’s panting Castiel’s name. That’s something he knows Dean loves, something he’s confessed to have never done with anyone before Castiel, and this feels like an especially appropriate time to do this for him, addicted to the sweet, strung-out noises he makes, wondering for one dark, self-indulgent moment what it would be like if Scott’s room were next to theirs, if he could hear the kind of responses Castiel can wring from Dean with such ease.

By the time Dean comes gasping into the pillow, he’s already got that soft, sated, adoring look on his face as he gazes at Castiel over his shoulder.

“I’m not through with you yet,” Castiel informs him, a threat and a promise, heart pounding at the heat that swiftly returns to Dean’s eyes at those words. Castiel can’t wait to take him apart.

“Damn,” Dean sighs, in that utterly blissful way Castiel loves, when they’re tangled together afterwards. Castiel tries not to feel too pleased with himself. “What got into you?” Dean asks, leaning into it as Castiel nuzzles his cheek, pressed up against Dean’s side with a possessive hand splayed wide on his belly.

“I—” Castiel freezes, because Dean doesn’t usually  _ ask _ about it when Castiel’s in a mood like this, just accepts Castiel’s intensified affections with great enthusiasm and without question.

He’s silent a beat too long, likely not disguising his guilty look fast enough.

Dean smiles at him, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Is this about Scott?”

Just hearing Dean say his name has Castiel’s mood souring ever so slightly, and again, he hesitates far too long to not appear suspicious. “No,” he mutters eventually, though he’s not sure why he’s trying to lie about it.

Dean snorts in amusement, twisting onto his side so he can look Castiel in the eye. “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” he says playfully, “But you know I’m not just into you because of your, uh,  _ performance _ in bed, right?”

Castiel clenches his jaw, thinking. Because he knows that’s true, rationally, he  _ does, _ but— “Am I better than he was at least?” It’s ridiculous to ask, but now that Dean’s invited the direct comparison, Castiel has to know.

Dean laughs, an affectionate, delighted sound that instantly pushes Castiel’s ugly feelings into the background. “God, Cas, there’s no comparison. He’s a cool guy and all, but kinda lame in the sack,” he says with a conspiratorial whisper, a fond quirk of his lips. “Honestly, full disclosure? You’re kinda the best I’ve ever had.”

Castiel hums thoughtfully, not sure if Dean’s exaggerating for his benefit, but buoyed by the sentiment all the same.

“I told you though, that’s not—” Dean falters, suddenly sincere, almost to the point of embarrassment. “That’s not the reason I’m into you,” he mumbles.

A faint blush stains his cheeks, one that Castiel swears he can  _ feel _ heating Dean’s face when they’re up close like this, close enough for Castiel to count every freckle and eyelash, intimately study the appealing softness of Dean’s mouth.

Castiel smiles warmly at Dean, cradling his jaw in one hand, thumb tracing his cheekbone. Assurance of his sexual prowess is certainly not unwelcome, but this is always the most uplifting, mollifying thing of all: that reminder of Dean’s deep, genuine feelings for him.

In a blink, the smirk is back on Dean’s face, vulnerable candor filed away for now. “Not the  _ only _ reason, anyway.”

Castiel’s smile turns wicked, but he tamps down on his desires for the moment.  _ He _ might be able to go all night, but Dean needs some rest before morning, so Castiel simply gathers him close, holds him until he falls asleep.

Come daybreak, though, Castiel has every intention of picking right up where they left off.

*   *   *

Castiel can think of few times he’s been quite this glad to be finished with a hunt. He’d been hoping he and Dean could get back on the road without having to talk to Scott again, but to Castiel’s disappointment, he stops by their room as they’re packing.

“Leaving already?” he asks, strolling inside once Dean opens the door.

“In the morning,” Dean clarifies.

Castiel’s busying himself with gathering their books on the other side of the room, but he can sense the way Scott perks up at Dean’s response.

“Cool,” Scott says, stepping just a bit closer to Dean. “So if you’re sticking around for a bit… Maybe we could grab a drink or something?” he suggests in an intimate murmur, as if Castiel can’t hear everything he’s saying. “Y’know, catch up.”

Castiel barely has time to register the  _ audacity _ of Scott trying this right in front of him before he notices that Dean’s a bit thrown off himself, taking half a step back and seeking Castiel out. “Uh, what do you think, Cas? You up for a drink?”

“Oh,” Scott says awkwardly, and Castiel tries not to be too pleased at the disappointment on his face. “I meant, uh—”

“Yes,” Castiel cuts in, staring him down with a challenge in his eyes, not giving him the chance to explain himself. “I think I’d enjoy a drink.”

Dean shoots him a look, equal parts confusion and intrigue. He obviously wasn’t expecting Castiel to agree. Castiel wasn’t either until he found himself actually doing it. “Okay,” Dean says, eyes lingering on Castiel before turning back to Scott. “You pick the place and we’ll meet you.”

“Cool,” Scott replies, making an admittedly admirable show of being unfazed by Castiel’s unexpected response. “See you there.”

When they’re alone, Dean looks at him again, a sort of curious excitement in his eyes. He’s obviously unsure what Castiel’s plan is, why he agreed to drinks, what exactly this evening has in store for them.

Castiel’s not sure, himself, but they’ll both see soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone wondering about these things, this fic will earn its rating in the next chapter. Stay tuned!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

Once they’d gotten rid of Scott, Dean had kind of expected Cas to not follow through on the whole drinks thing, to ask Dean to text Scott and make their excuses so Cas could spend the rest of the night very thoroughly reminding Dean that Scott can’t hold a candle to him. There’s no way that Cas didn’t have that in the back of his mind, considering that Scott had the balls to ask Dean out right in front of him. Not that Scott exactly knows they’re together, but still.

That’s what Dean had been expecting. Looking forward to, even.

So when they do end up at a bar with Scott, Dean can’t help but wonder how exactly they got here – and what exactly Cas has planned. Because he knows Cas by now; Dean hasn’t figured out what it is yet, but Cas had a reason for choosing this option.

It’s decently crowded tonight, and the three of them squeeze their way to the bar, Cas on his one side, Scott on the other. Dean leans on the counter and smiles, turning to his left. “You want something, Cas?”

“No, thank you.”

Dean makes a mental note that Cas doesn’t seem to be as keen on having a drink as he let on earlier, but he lets it slide.

“Hey, let me buy you one,” Scott cuts in, leaning close to Dean, fingers curling around Dean’s forearm.

It could just be a friendly gesture, but Dean knows better. And judging by the palpable annoyance on his other side, Cas knows better too. He pastes on a smirk. “I’m not one to say no to a free drink.”

“You got it.” Scott actually _winks_ at him, the mischief in his eyes lighthearted but undeniably suggestive as well, and Dean can’t help but be reminded of what happened the last time the two of them were together in a bar like this. “I think I remember your order,” he teases, turning away to get the bartender’s attention.

Dean lets out a slow breath, contemplating what he should say to Cas, if anything, what exactly this impromptu outing has in store for him, but he’s driven from his thoughts when Cas presses in close, a warm, solid presence beside him.

Cas’s hand finds the back of Dean’s neck, resting there in a firm hold as Cas leans in enough for Dean to feel each exhale as he murmurs in his ear. “I think you should meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” Cas rumbles, casual, as if that suggestion alone didn’t make Dean’s mouth run dry.

Cas pulls back and catches Dean’s eye, just enough of a question in his gaze for Dean to know he should nod his understanding, his assent. Cas looks pleased but says nothing further, fingers briefly sliding into Dean’s hair before trailing all the way down his back as he saunters off.

Dean’s got honest-to-god goosebumps.

After a few moments, Scott turns back and hands Dean a drink, eyebrows raised at the now empty spot beside Dean. “Oh,” he says, no doubt pleasantly surprised by this turn of events. Dean would be insulted on Cas’s behalf, but he _has_ been kind of a dick to Scott this entire week. And, as far as Scott probably thinks, a massive cockblock. “What happened to Cas?”

“He went to the, uh—” Dean’s got the word _bathroom_ on the tip of his tongue before he realizes that hits too close to home, so he reels it back. “Phone call,” he mumbles instead.

“Well,” Scott says, suddenly even closer than he already was. “Maybe I can finally get a little time alone with you, then?” he asks, hopeful.

Dean is so hilariously not tempted. Aside from the y’know… _feelings_ part that he and Cas discussed, that whole ‘best I’ve ever had’ spiel wasn’t just him stroking Cas’s ego – as much as he does like to do that. He’s got a decently lengthy list of wild flings that were kind of fucking mind-blowing at the time, and maybe still are, in retrospect, but no one’s ever left him with that utterly fulfilled, bone-deep satisfaction like Cas does.

“Uh, maybe,” he says, trying to disguise how uncomfortable he is – not because of Scott’s advances, really, but because he’s watching the clock, mind racing, knowing Cas is waiting for him, _not_ knowing what’s coming next.

Dean squints at the TV in the corner and clumsily attempts to comment on a basketball game that he knows absolutely nothing about, trying to distract Scott with whatever dull small talk he can manage until it’s time to meet Cas. Waiting even five minutes is torture, and he’s struggling not to squirm in anticipation, checking his watch while Scott tries to engage him in actual conversation.

When the time comes, Dean sets his drink down almost forcefully, turning to Scott with a no-doubt slightly crazed look in his eyes, heart thumping in anticipation. “I gotta—” he says with a vague gesture, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, already backing away. “Be right back. Keep an eye on my drink, would ya?” he adds in case Scott gets the wrong idea and decides to follow him.

Dean’s palms are sweaty when he reaches the bathroom door and pulls it open. He steps inside and finds Cas there, alone, smiling wickedly at Dean as he leans against the sink, arms crossed. Dean hears the door lock behind him, courtesy of Cas pulling out the mojo, no doubt, and Dean can’t even pretend that those casual displays of power don’t turn him on.

Cas rises to his full height and steps closer. Dean’s almost weak at the knees over the way Cas looks right now, that soldier-of-god intensity in his eyes laser-focused on Dean. That sure takes him back. Cas used to scare him at first, as much as he tried not to let on, and he can still strike fear into the heart of anyone he chooses. Not Dean though. He’s seen Cas in a fit of rage and stopped him easily with just a word or a hand on his arm. Cas is a total softy when it comes to Dean, and that’s exactly what lets Dean do this, to hold still like cornered prey while Cas stalks toward him. Because whatever Cas has in mind for him, Dean knows everything’s fine, Cas has got him – and he’s gonna be _real_ happy by the end of it.

When Cas is close enough to touch, he stops and raises an eyebrow. “Did you enjoy your drink?”

Dean holds his gaze, breath shallower than before. “It was the cheap stuff,” he says with a hint of a smirk. He doesn’t know if that’s true – he never even touched it.

Cas tilts his head, considering. “It wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Not even close,” Dean sighs, finally giving into the urge to arch forward and kiss Cas, groaning in satisfaction when Cas immediately reciprocates with the full extent of his enthusiasm, coaxing Dean’s mouth open with his tongue. He pushes Dean backward—though Dean’s not sure it even counts as pushing when Dean goes along with it so eagerly, baring his neck for Cas’s lips the second his back touches the wall, planting his feet wider so Cas can slip one of his thick thighs between Dean’s, give Dean something warm and unyielding to grind against.

He’s so fucking glad he talked Cas out of that trench coat before they came out tonight. Then Cas had upped the ante, of course, by taking off the jacket too and rolling his shirtsleeves up, and there’s here’s still something so thrilling, so illicit about the sight of Cas’s bare forearms, the feel of skin and muscle beneath Dean’s greedy fingers, tie loosened from Dean tugging at it, reeling Cas in as if he’s the one in control here.

Dean’s hard shockingly quick, was probably already halfway there the second Cas growled in his ear at the bar. Cas is in a similar state, and Dean slides his hand down to cup the hot, firm shape of him, gasping when Cas groans in response and bites Dean’s lip. Dean pulls back and huffs out a laugh that’s almost too breathless to be audible. “Damn, Cas, you didn’t start without me, did you?”

“I had some time to think while I was waiting,” Cas says, tracing Dean’s jaw with the tip of his finger. “About what I wanted to do when you got here.”

“Yeah?” Dean breathes. “What do you want to do?” He licks his lips, deliberate, provocative, stomach flipping in arousal when Cas tracks the motion with obvious interest.

Only the lightest pressure of Cas’s hand on his shoulder has Dean falling to his knees, feeling surprisingly at home on a bathroom floor, between a wall and Cas’s solid body.

Cas looks down at him, and there’s a moment where it looks like he’s about to make sure Dean is on board with what’s happening, but Dean’s already reaching for his belt, scrambling to undo it, easing Cas’s zipper down to get at his cock.

Dean licks his lips again at the sight of it, flushed and hard, and he leans in to take it into his mouth without preamble, a soft, wanting sound in his throat at the slide and stretch, the heaviness on his tongue.

He has to force himself to take his time with it. He wants Cas _now,_ as much as he can take, and he wants to make it so fucking good for Cas, but he’s too delirious with arousal for any finesse, shameless and sloppy in his desperation.

And Dean’s more than happy just like this, of course, controlling the pace, putting in his best efforts to get Cas off in record time, but he wants more of what he got from Cas when he first walked in here, that unbridled passion, that almost feral spark in his eye that hinted at the best kind of danger. Dean will never complain about how careful and attentive Cas is, but goddamn does he love it when Cas just takes what he wants.

He might think Cas has gotten it out of his system, but he can feel the lingering, restless energy just barely being kept in check, and he knows that the last few days of watching another man show obvious interest in Dean has gotten under Cas’s skin exactly the way Dean had secretly hoped. He also knows that Cas is holding himself back from acting on those possessive feelings the way he so clearly wants, and Dean’s having none of that, won’t be fully satisfied until Cas’s usually ironclad control starts to slip at least a little.

Dean slows down and eventually holds still, angling his head just so and gazing up imploringly at Cas, grasping the back of his thighs and encouraging him to move. Dean’s the one who moans indecently when Cas takes the hint, smoothly thrusting into Dean’s mouth at whatever pace _he_ decides, one hand wound tight in Dean’s hair, the other braced on the wall above him.

He expects Cas to tease him a little bit like he does sometimes, to switch up his rhythm, pull back so far that Dean has to strain to wrap his lips around him at all before sliding deep again. Instead, he’s chasing his release with single-minded focus and thoroughly using Dean’s mouth to get there, and fuck if that doesn’t really do it for Dean too.

This is still Cas, of course, so it’s not like he’s completely inconsiderate about it, or anything, just rough and demanding exactly the way Dean likes it. Maybe he doesn’t check in with Dean as often as he usually does, but that might have something to do with how obviously Dean is enjoying it. Dean knows his cheeks are flushed, eyes probably glassy as he stares up at Cas, opens his mouth wider for Cas to take how he pleases.

By now, Dean’s intimately familiar enough with Cas’s body, with the rising urgency of each gasp and groan, to know that Cas is so, so close. Dean fights to hold still so Cas can get there, even though he’s vibrating with impatience, shamelessly eager for Cas to spill down his throat, but Cas wrenches his head back, replacing Dean’s mouth with his own hand, watching Dean and quirking an expectant eyebrow.

Even on that precarious precipice of orgasm he’s still polite enough to make sure, though he doesn’t _ask,_ really, and Dean sucks in a sharp breath, knowing what’s being implied here. “Yeah, fuck,” he says in what he can’t deny is a whimper, mesmerized by the sight of Cas’s thick but elegant fingers stroking his cock. “Do it.”

He shivers at the fire in Cas’s eyes before he slams his own closed and tips his face up, licking his lips in anticipation, arousal spiking so sharply when Cas tips over the edge that it makes him whine, squirming at the sensation as hot stripes land on his cheek, his chin, smeared across his panting mouth. Maybe Cas didn’t mean this as _marking his territory,_ exactly – he knows that Dean likes this and has a terrible time asking for it – but it’s not such a farfetched idea considering the mood he’s been in all week, and just the idea of it has Dean so hard he might lose it right there, actually dangerously close to coming just from riding the tight friction of his jeans straining across his erection.

Dean’s half out of his mind with desperation, could easily reach down and at least ease some of the pressure with his own hand, but he doesn’t even try, can’t stop clutching at Cas’s thighs, begging for him instead.

Cas looks down at him with palpable adoration and pride, one hand sliding to rest against Dean’s neck, the other gripping his shirt, hoisting him to his feet like he weighs fucking nothing. He turns Dean and steps in behind him, pressing him against the sink, and all this manhandling is entirely too much for Dean in this state, especially with Cas still giving off an intoxicating air of possessiveness. Cas gets his pants undone and wastes no time in curling his fingers around Dean’s cock, and Dean could almost cry at how goddamn good it is, Cas’s huge, warm hand stroking him with just the right speed, the perfect firm grip, the way he knows is guaranteed to get Dean there in record time, especially when he’s this worked up.

Dean doesn’t quite register that he’s in front of a mirror until he starts to watch the path of Cas’s other hand as it trails up his torso, teasing a nipple through his shirt and eventually – almost too briefly – wrapping around Dean’s throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, really, but just the image of it, the feeling of Cas’s strong fingers there, is a shock to Dean’s system, cock twitching and leaking in Cas’s grasp. Then Cas’s hand keeps going, and Dean instinctively wants to close his eyes against the sight of his own face streaked with come, but Cas obviously wants him to watch; he doesn’t command him out loud, but it’s implied well enough when Dean’s eyes start to slip closed and Cas nips the back of his neck to keep him focused, hard enough to leave a mark that Dean won’t really get to look at later—that one’s all for Cas. Dean shivers at the fervor in Cas’s gaze when they lock eyes in the mirror, that unspoken understanding that he wants Dean to see how good Cas gets him off, fingers gathering some of the mess smeared across Dean’s lips then shoving inside, pressing against Dean’s tongue.

Dean’s still-sticky skin isn’t the most pleasant sensation, but now that he’s been forced to look at it, there’s a strong swoop in his stomach that should be embarrassment but definitely fucking isn’t, and for one horrifying, incredible moment, watching Cas’s fingers fill his mouth, he wonders if this is what he looks like when he’s sucking Cas off. The absolute filthy _thrill_ of it all has him so wound up he’s about to burst, makes him come so hard and so fast that he doesn’t even think to be quiet about it, and if he weren’t already falling over the edge, the faintly smug look he catches on Cas’s face would absolutely have gotten him there.

He spills into Cas’s hand with a punched-out groan, would double over from the overwhelming pleasure of it if not for Cas so easily holding him in place. He kind of wants to watch, but he can’t keep his eyes open. He knows that Cas is doing enough watching for the both of them, probably enraptured by the obscene mess he’s made of Dean.

Eventually, Dean sinks back to earth and sags against Cas, letting out a slow, contented sigh. Almost too soon he feels the cool tingle of Cas’s grace wash over him, cleaning him to a more presentable state – but not entirely immaculate, Dean can’t help but notice, clothes still rumpled, collarbones still shining with sweat.

“Uhh,” he attempts with a nervous chuckle as his head starts to clear, too fucked-out to manage much else yet. He definitely got more than he bargained for by teasing Cas the way he did, but _holy shit,_ he is not complaining. “God damn, Cas.”

“Dean?”

Dean recognizes that tone – he knows Cas can get a bit gun shy after he lets his base instincts take over like that. Watching Cas in the mirror, he can almost pinpoint the moment some ugly feeling like guilt starts to seep in and put tension in his frame, making him pull away, and Dean’s gonna nip that backpedaling shit right in the bud, because Cas should never have to feel bad for rocking Dean’s world like that.

“Hey,” Dean says, catching Cas by the arm before he can retreat, reeling him back in for a kiss he puts all his remaining energy into, trying his best to convey that Cas has absolutely nothing to be sorry for. “That was _so hot,_ ” he murmurs in the intimate space between them, relieved to feel Cas relax, at least marginally.

“I wasn’t too…?”

“Fuck no,” Dean promptly cuts in, grinning slyly at Cas, grinning wider when he gets a smile in return.

It’s extremely gratifying how quick Cas gets over that moment of self-doubt and eases right into self-satisfaction again, leaning in to kiss Dean, stopping abruptly halfway at the sound of insistent knocking.

For a minute Dean had forgotten about anything outside of the two of them, but that bubble’s undeniably been burst now, and they exchange a brief glance before going to the door and unlocking it.

Dean opens the door, not prepared to come face to face with Scott, who lights up at the sight of him. “Hey, there you are. I—” Scott trails off uncertainly, furrowing his brow in obvious suspicion and confusion as Cas comes into view, crowding in behind Dean. And if Dean thought Cas was pretty pleased with himself _before,_ that’s nothing compared to the aura of smugness radiating from him right now.

Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh or be absolutely mortified, so he settles on something that’s sort of both, and somehow neither. “Yeah, we uh…” He pauses with a lopsided smile, half-apologetic, half-joking. “Think we’re gonna call it a night.”

“Right,” Scott says, shaking his head with a faint chuckle, as if in sudden understanding, like the meaning behind all the weird vibes and veiled hostility from this past week has finally clicked into place. It’s not until Cas clears his throat that he thinks to step aside and let them by.

“Good seeing you again, man,” Dean attempts as they pass, hoping he sounds casual and friendly.

“It was a pleasure working with you,” Cas adds, so perfectly deadpan that any passersby would assume he’s being genuine, but Dean knows damn well that Cas is just being a little shit right now. And maybe he shouldn’t laugh at that, but he does.

Scott stares incredulously for a second before laughing it off too, “Sure,” he replies, sounding surprisingly good-natured. “I’ll see you guys around, maybe.”

He makes his exit before either of them has a chance to reply. Cas and Dean stand there for a moment in silence, exchanging amused glances until Cas finally steps in close, eyes half-lidded but teasing as he asks, “Wanna get out of here?” just like how Dean always says it.

“Definitely,” Dean laughs, a thudding in his chest that has nothing to do with the lingering adrenaline and everything to do with the inescapable rush of affection he feels for Cas in that moment. “Lead the way.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't much, but it's something to show that I'm still alive and don't plan on abandoning this!

Dean’s still riding the high of what just happened, feeling so giddy when they pile into the car that he almost wonders if he’s too delirious to be driving.

Cas is quiet, pensive, the atmosphere thick with something nebulous but exhilarating that Dean can’t possibly leave alone. “So,” he drawls once they’re properly on the road, needing to pipe in when the silence gets too much. He turns towards Cas as much as he can safely get away with, lips quirked. “We gonna talk about the jealousy thing?” He supposes they did talk about it, a little, but Cas kind of dodged the question, and Dean wants some real answers this time.

Cas fidgets and looks out the window. “What jealousy thing?”

“Cas,” Dean says, meant to be admonishing, but it just comes out as a laugh, because it’s honestly hilarious that Cas thinks he can try to deny this. “C’mon. You think I don’t notice how you get if someone makes a pass at me?”

Cas’s jaw stays clenched, eyes resolutely avoiding Dean’s, and it’s enough to make Dean worry, just a little, that this isn’t as… _fun_ for Cas as it is for Dean, that maybe there’s something real, something serious beneath the surface.

Dean clears his throat, smile slipping away. “You know I’d never…” He trails off, eyes cutting towards the passenger’s seat.

That get Cas’s attention, his head nearly whipping around so he can seek out Dean’s gaze. “Of course,” he says, emphatic, unflinchingly sincere in that way Cas does so well. “Of course I do.”

“Okay… good,” Dean says eventually, relaxing again. He didn’t realize how much he needed that reassurance until it was out there, satisfied that whatever’s going on in Cas’s head, it isn’t genuine insecurity or mistrust for Dean.

There’s a brief lull that lets Dean think the conversation’s over – definitely would be if _Dean_ were the one trying to talk about his feelings, not that Cas is much better, most times, though he does have his moments – but then Cas sits up straighter, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It isn’t…” He pauses with a shake of his head, clearly struggling to articulate his thoughts. “It isn’t _you_ , it’s just…”

It’s easy for Dean to fill in the blanks, because there’s definitely a part of this whole thing that he understands very, very well. “Want me all to yourself?” he supplies as they roll up to a red light, taking the opportunity to turn toward Cas with a lazy smirk.

“Well…” Cas considers, eyes boring into Dean’s, “Yes.”

Whatever jokey intent Dean had with that comment instantly evaporates under the heat of Cas’s gaze and the sentiment of his words. It’s not like he didn’t kind of know that already, but the spoken confirmation still makes him shiver, Cas’s open admission of those feelings putting a pleasant warmth in Dean’s stomach.

“Nothing to worry about there,” he teases. “I already told you, you’ve totally ruined me for anyone else,” he says, smirking lazily at Cas.

Cas huffs and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “If you keep using hyperbole like that, I might start to doubt your sincerity.”

Dean shakes his head and looks out the windshield again. Cas might act modest, but Dean knows he likes hearing that kinda stuff. Sure enough, when he eyes Cas through his periphery, he sees his mouth quirking up at the corners, something secretly smug in his expression.

Dean smiles to himself too, because that’s a damn good look on Cas, and he wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of it.

*   *   *

Castiel does feel better after his conversation with Dean. Of course, he never thought even for a second that Dean would actually stray, but it’s nice to hear it out loud, confirm that Dean wants Castiel to know how devoted it is. So, yes, he’s glad they talked about it.

But it doesn’t _help_. Seeing others make advances towards Dean, noting the hopeful interest in their eyes, it still stirs up dark feelings that refuse to be ignored. That insistent jealous pang hasn’t gone away, so as important as it was to talk to Dean about it, ultimately Castiel can’t help but think that they’ve accomplished nothing.

Again, Castiel reminds himself that these emotions are irrational, but he always circles back to the infuriating fact that irrational emotions can’t be reasoned with or controlled, no matter how convincingly his higher brain functions try to keep him in check.

Castiel takes slight solace in the fact that if he can’t rein in the way he feels, he can at least exercise restraint in how he chooses to act.

Not that that isn’t difficult either. He still finds himself glaring at a deputy who seems entirely too eager to help Dean with their investigation, or being short with the motel clerk who is suspiciously invested in learning Dean’s plans for the evening, despite knowing that none of it is a threat to him or what he has with Dean. Even when it’s someone he knows Dean wouldn’t find especially attractive, it’s still just… irritating.

There are times when Castiel wonders why he even bothers. At first, he was concerned about upsetting Dean by acting like a Neanderthal, but… he didn’t seem all that upset by Castiel’s behavior when they discussed it. And even now, he seems more intrigued than anything else by seeing that side of Castiel, looking expectant and almost _pleased_ when someone makes advances towards him, knowing what might happen when the two of them are alone. What undoubtedly _would_ have happened, before Castiel found the fortitude to control himself.

Castiel can’t deny that he has similar feelings. It was _immensely_ satisfying to just… take Dean like that the moment the jealous urge struck him, and no amount of telling himself that he’s supposed to be better than this has been able to sour that vivid, pleasant memory.

And if Dean truly doesn’t have an issue with it, if this is something of an open secret between them, one they’ve at least addressed enough to know it doesn’t stem from a troubling place, then… Castiel’s staring to wonder what the harm is in indulging. If the opportunity keeps presenting itself, he’s not sure how long he can last without taking it.

*   *   *

Dean knew from the jump that bringing Cas along on a job with one of Dean’s, uh… former flames was risky, but clearly that hadn’t been enough to stop him. He kept expecting his terrible decision-making to bite him in the ass, and looking back on it now, it’s even clearer that things could’ve turned out bad. _Real_ bad.

But by some incomprehensible miracle, they didn’t. And that’s a relief, of course. More than a relief – considering what played out between him and Cas, Dean’s feeling pretty damn pleased with himself for his ill-advised choices.

He’s glad they were able to have a grown-up conversation about it, get everything out in the open so they understand each other’s intentions and Cas can put his mind at ease.

Bullet dodged, air cleared, as far as Dean’s concerned. Back to normal.

Though he’s starting to question exactly what normal is supposed to be.

It used to take so little to set Cas off, a stranger’s passing remark or longing look in Dean’s direction enough to get a rise out of him even if he thought he was hiding it. But whatever real _reaction_ Dean had gotten used to from Cas, he’s definitely not getting it anymore. Which, he has to say, is a little weird.

It’s not like Cas has suddenly gotten over these feelings. Dean can say that with certainty, because he’s not blind and Cas isn’t subtle. Just the slight pinch of his brow or the clench of his jaw would be enough to give him away, but he’s also compelled to just… _touch_ Dean when he can get away with it, when they have a benefit of a restaurant table or a crowd of people to obscure it – a firm squeeze on Dean’s hand or thigh that gets his hopes up for Cas to really lose his composure once they’re alone.

But Cas always keeps it civil, almost as if he’s taking extra pains to be gentler with Dean than usual. And it’s good, of course – Dean could never call any kind of sex with Cas even remotely disappointing – but it’s not exactly what he’s after.

Maybe that’s just one more fucked up think about him, but Dean misses it. Misses Cas’s watchful gaze, his possessive touch, those uncontrollable urges just barely suppressed until he could get Dean alone and channel his _passions_ into some of the best nights of Dean’s life. But it’s been disappointingly difficult to get Cas that worked up again.

Even he can’t fully grasp why he’s so eager for more, how there’s something almost addictive about being reminded just how badly Cas wants him. He gets into some absurdly _mushy_ feelings if he thinks about it too long, realizing the thrill he gets from being so overtly desired might stem from somewhere a little deeper. Dean’s used to being wanted for an hour or two, maybe overnight or through the weekend if he’s lucky. Someone wanting to… _keep_ him is new.

Dean wonders if he made a mistake calling Cas out on this behavior, if he’s self-conscious or ashamed now that his jealousy’s out in the open. And that’s on Dean, broaching that topic but not making it abundantly clear that he’s kinda super into that side of Cas, embarrassing as that is.

That tiny part of Dean’s brain that knows he should be mature about this keeps telling him he should just talk to Cas, that Cas would never judge him and would make every effort to remind Dean how wanted he is, in any way Dean could possibly ask for.

But the other sticking point is that there’s something he likes about this jealousy business feeling… _real._ That level of authenticity that lets him truly indulge in the fantasy of Cas needing to claim Dean for himself, for all the world to see.

He doesn’t want Cas holding back, especially now that Dean knows what he’s capable of. He feels a little guilty, maybe. But if Cas can’t help how he feels about Dean getting attention from other people, and if that tends to result in Cas giving it to him even more spectacularly than usual, then he might as well have some fun with it.

And he’s willing to bet that Cas could have some fun with it too, if he lets himself, because he knows he’s not the only one who had a shockingly amazing time in that filthy bar bathroom, but apparently Cas has gone ahead and convinced himself that he shouldn’t have. Dean can’t help but want him to get over it, because the idea of Cas getting a little… _possessive,_ reveling in it instead of stewing in guilt – that’s an appealing prospect, in Dean’s book.

It took something big for Cas to really lose it last time, a real test of his patience to get him to the point where he really couldn’t control himself. The cracks in his composure are already starting to show, harder to ignore every time a situation like this comes up.

It’s only a matter of time until Cas breaks, and after so long keeping himself in check, it’s going to be devastating in the best possible way.

Dean can’t fucking wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://sass-master-stina.tumblr.com).


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